


Roger Rabbit

by relativelystupid



Series: What Do I Have Here? [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, OFC - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-16
Updated: 2014-08-16
Packaged: 2018-02-13 10:30:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2147349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/relativelystupid/pseuds/relativelystupid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Dean, do you love me?” <i>wrong question, Cas-shmere.</i></p>
<p>“Of course I do, baby.” He whispers when he comes back from work, as he tucks Castiel’s head under his chin, and Castiel snuggles and listens to Dean’s heartbeat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Roger Rabbit

Castiel holds back the tears as he picks the pieces of glass on the floor, ignoring the sharp pain that makes him hiss when he kneels down, and when a tear does fall, he immediately wipes it away with hands that’s still stained with a little bit of his blood, and yet again, he’s reminded of the fraility of being a human being. Feeling pain and anguish and it’s just downright _shitty_. Sniffing, he returns to the task at hand, gazing up briefly to look at the clock atop the TV that Sam had given him and Dean when they got married. It read 08:22 p.m., and Dean left a little bit ago, so he probably wouldn’t get back till the wee hours of the morning. 

Smelling of women’s perfume and shirt smeared with lipstick.

He’s not a housewife. He’s not a maid, and he’s certainly not a punching bag. He may be a man, he may tolerate pain more so than a regular person, but that doesn’t mean that he’s suddenly not feeling. At least, that’s what he says to himself when he’s washing off the stain from said shirt. What can he do? He loves Dean more than he’s loved anything in his whole existence. And if he does go out into the world, he doesn’t want to face being chewed up and spat out like gum. He’s human like that. He doesn’t notice that he’s finished cleaning the debris of Dean’s berserk episode, and when he does, he stands on scabbed and bruised pale legs, slowly making his way to the kitchen. His ring glints dully in the soft, yellow light of the kitchen, and he sees the familiar glint of Dean’s on the kitchen island, and ignores the fact that he left his ring again. Maybe he is naïve and stupid that even when he’s getting shouted at in the face, he doesn’t notice. He knows, though. He knows that Dean is violent and Castiel is accessible. 

_Is that really your defense?_ He hears in his mind, and he unconsciously nods. It was his defense. 

Forty minutes later, he’s sitting alone in their bed, looking at his hands and watching as he flexed them, how his scars scrunched up along with it. He smiles.  
The next day, Dean isn’t there and Castiel looks up the name of Sam’s doctor friend. 

They said she was good. Sam said she was good. One of the best. But all that Castiel knew was that when he laid his eyes on golden hair and the coldest green eyes was that he knew she knew. And she did. Her name is Annalise Rogers, and her husband used to cut her and hit her, too. But she never told him that. He read it from her eyes. And somehow, being with her made him feel remotely like an angel again. Being with someone so wired and running on autopilot like he once was, it made him happy. It made him happy that someone else was suffering from his suffering. But Annalise was strong. Castiel thought she was stronger than him, but she was weaker than Dean. They talked about the usual things. Routine, she says, in a tone that says routine all over it. Their stories intertwined like that one story.

_Songbirds of Pain_ , Annalise supplies in one session, and Castiel nods, lying back on his chair.

Dean notices, of course.

“Where were you?” was the question. Annalise would frown at the sheer cliché of that statement.

”Appointment.” Castiel sets to cook Dean dinner, moves fluidly around the kitchen and smiles, warmly, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. 

“What appointment. You never told me anything.”

“I don’t always have to tell you everything, Dean.” Castiel remembers Dean saying this to him once. When they were married for five years.

Dean watches him. 

That night, he closes his eyes as Dean uses his body (he did, did he?), bruises forming on the pale skin of his human body, and he is again reminded that he’s not an angel anymore. 

He doesn’t even know if he’s human anymore. 

_Or sane. That's always an option._

The next few days were a blur. Sam says Annalise is in New Jersey for a conference, and he gives Castiel a book. It’s The Five People You Meet in Heaven, because Annalise was feeling sentimental so she bought it for him and made Sam give it to Castiel. He starts reading it. He feels happy. Because Eddie Maintenance is confused and he’s dead, because Eddie Maintenance was happy with his wife and Dean never was really happy with Castiel, was he? He notes to himself to ask Dean this when he gets back from work. Maybe Dean isn’t happy, but Castiel sure is.

“Dean, do you love me?” _wrong question, Cas-shmere._ He hears in Annalise’s voice, because Castiel loves cashmere sweaters. 

“Of course I do, baby.” He whispers when he comes back from work, as he tucks Castiel’s head under his chin, and Castiel snuggles and listens to Dean’s heartbeat. He doesn’t notice the confused frown on his beloved’s face. 

Annalise is in that morning. Her office is absurdly like his living room. But seemingly more hospitalized. It doesn’t bother Castiel, because it’s beautiful. 

_How was the book?_

Castiel lights up and babbles about the war, because he was a soldier, too, before. Annalise folds her hands on her lap and nods, and her hair seemed to be darkening. Castiel saddened. He liked the color gold on her. It reminded him of the gold flecks in Dean’s eyes.

“Dean? I bought pie!” Castiel calls out as he walks inside their house, hanging his coat on the coat rack. His baby blue shirt was slightly wet because of the rain, but he figured Dean would still think he was beautiful, anyway. He says so. 

“Where the Hell were you? I was going fucking crazy, Cas. I thought you were gone and I—“ he breathes and stares at Castiel. Castiel smirks and tilts his head, “..Annalise loves pie, too, so we bought some and I took two pieces home,”

“This _Annalise_ shit has got to go, Cas.”

Castiel doesn’t listen. Annalise makes him feel all better. 

The next day, Dean is there with his The Five People You Meet in Heaven, and Castiel hisses and snatches it away from him. 

” _Annalise_ gave this to me,” 

“ _Cas-shmere_ , I gave you that. Hell, I gave it on our fifth anniversary,” 

“ _Annalise_ calls me that. You don’t get to call me that!” Castiel shrieks. 

Dean stops. 

“Oh, baby..” 

Dean isn’t there when they take Castiel out of the room and into the time out room. 

Castiel looks at Dean.

“Dean. You look like _Annalise_.”


End file.
